


O Lover

by honestys_easy



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: American Idol - RPS, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Piano, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-08
Updated: 2007-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestys_easy/pseuds/honestys_easy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the song "O. Lover" by Jason Mraz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Lover

_This is so unhealthy._

Chris kept the lights off as he sat himself down in the common room, the full moon illuminating the room with an eerie glow. He knew he should have been fast asleep by now, as the rest of the house seemed to be, but there was no way he'd be able to go back into the bedroom. Not with him still lying there.

> _"I'm going to kill my friends," Blake announced in the bedroom, ripping open the plain brown packaging and peering into the UPS box. Chris raised his head from his notebook in vague interest._  
>        Reaching inside the package, Blake sighed dramatically. "I  told them to send me some clothes I forgot at home," he explained. "My blue hoodie. My Chucks. Stuff like that."  
>        "So what'd they send you?" Chris questioned, eager to see what unique fashion statements Blake couldn't live without.  
>        Wordlessly, Blake pulled out an item from the box - a scandalously skimpy pair of red satin boxer shorts that looked more fitting for Haley than Blake.  
>        Chris swallowed hard, the attempts to block any thoughts of Blake actually wearing the shorts out of his mind failing miserably. "Now that's results show attire right there," he squeaked out, his voice sounding much different from before.  
>        "Oh, that's not the end of it." More shuffling in the package, and out came something else bright red, and far too small to fit Blake's toned frame. "It's got a matching camisole."  
>        Blake went on chuckling, while Chris became acutely aware of the damaging thoughts in his mind. The shiny satin pulled taut against his friend's ample ass, covering far too little...the smooth feel of the fabric against Chris's fingers as he'd pull that camisole up over the ridges of Blake's back, exposing his tattoos...  
>        "Chris?" Chris blinked furiously, the sound of Blake's voice pulling him out of his reverie. He was suddenly very glad that his notebook was securely resting in his lap. He looked up at Blake, who was now standing atop his bed, wearing the skimpy camisole on top of his t-shirt.  
>        "Well, whaddya think?" He was grinning like a madman, obviously very pleased with himself. "I know I'm no Antonella Barba, but -"  
>        "I gotta go," Chris muttered quickly and, much to the surprise of his friend, bolted out of the room in a hurry. 

Settling down in front of the electric keyboard, Chris gave out a deep sigh. He wished he didn't feel this way about Blake, and this could just be a normal friendship, without having to hide uncontrollable erections or erotic daydreams. Without being afraid to go back into your own bedroom, for fear of how his heart will stir upon seeing Blake's sleeping form in the bed next to him.

He pressed down upon the keys, his hands instinctively knowing where to go, even in the moonlight. A dark, minor chord erupted from the speakers. "Why'd it have to be _him?"_ he whispered to himself.

"Why'd it have to be who?" A voice called softly from the doorway. Chris jumped, startled at the sound of anyone in the house being up at this hour. His face blushed a deep red in an instant. That voice didn't belong to just anyone.

Chris's eyed fell down to the keys. "It's nothing," he mumbled, hoping Blake would just dismiss it and go away.

Blake approached the younger man, slowly at first so as not to bump into anything in the darkness. "I woke up, and you weren't there," he said. "Couldn't sleep?"

Chris looked up at Blake, and gave silent praise that at least he wasn't wearing the red top and shorts. "Something like that." He looked away quickly; the subtle outlines of Blake's face highlighted in the moonlight were just too much for him to bear. "You should probably go -"

"What's this?" Blake interrupted, picking up Chris's tattered notebook from off of the keyboard. He thumbed through the first few pages, which were covered in sheet music and scratched-out corrections. "A new song?"

Eyes widening in shock, Chris immediately knew what Blake was looking at. Blake was very aware of Chris's spiral song notebook with the teal-blue cover that was nearly falling off from overuse. When the contestants were in the studios rehearsing for the week's performances, the book never left Chris's side. And he was always eager to share any new musings with Blake, to work out any issues with the pieces with someone who shared such a similar talent, and passion for his style of music. Normally, he'd be more than happy for Blake to look over his latest attempt at a ballad or an upbeat instrumental.

_But not this time,_ Chris thought. He wanted to wrench the book out of Blake's hands, get it away from him as fast as possible, but there was no opportunity to do so, and before he knew it Blake was sitting beside him at the keyboard, engrossed in the notebook's contents.

Blake shook his head methodically, the chords and runs blazing through his head as if the music already lived inside of him. "It's good, it's good," he said absently, his eyes squinting ever-so-slightly in the darkness of the room. "It's...sadder than what you usually write." He met Chris's eyes, and Chris didn't dare look away. "Are there lyrics yet?"

It was all he could do to shake his head no, without breaking down and admitting that the song was written furiously last night, as everyone lay asleep and untormented by lustful thoughts of their roommates. That he had written it all for Blake, every lilting chord, and it was an expression of all the unrequited feelings building up inside him for all these weeks. He wanted to tell him, yearned for it, but there was that ever-present fear that Chris’s closest new friend, the one that seemed able to roll with any situation handed to him with sophistication and style, would abandon him because of it. And that wasn’t a chance Chris wanted to take.

“But it…it needs something.” Blake propped the notebook up against the keyboard, his lips pursed in thought. How Chris wanted to kiss those beautiful lips, taste the essence of Blake and never stop…

Reaching over Chris’s body, Blake stretched to connect nimble fingers to keys. The first, low chord was played, and Chris closed his eyes in silent rapture. He never imagined that his muse, the object of his affections, would ever be playing the song written specifically for him. This was a dangerous situation, too dangerous, but the desire to hear his music played by Blake was too strong against his fears of being discovered.

“See, you wrote it down like this.” Blake played the run, the octaves still so low he had to reach over Chris to play it. “But it would probably complement the intro more if you changed the arrangement, like this.” And with the quick and sudden change, Blake had improved the sound of the music threefold, its clarity and true beauty shining through to Chris.

“That…that sounds amazing.” Chris couldn’t contain the headiness in his voice. He could play it off as sleepiness, but he knew deep inside that he was actually getting aroused from Blake playing his song, from his close proximity to Blake. “How did you –“

He smiled warmly, and waved his hands in front of Chris’s face. “Magic fingers,” he joked, and started to rise from the bench. “You should probably go back to bed,” he said, stretching out his arms in front of him, ignorant to the fact that Chris hadn’t gone to bed at all. “I can look at the rest of it in the morning, if you want…”

Chris squirmed awkwardly in his seat, unable to meet the other boy’s gaze. He had just realized the emotional effects of Blake sitting next to him at the keyboard had the same physical effects as well, and couldn’t get up or even move without the tent in his pants becoming severely apparent.

Playing mute was no help, however, as Blake immediately wondered why Chris wasn’t following him to the hallway, eager to get a good night’s sleep before rehearsal. He followed the gaze of Chris’s eyes down to his pajamas, and his eyes widened. The world was unraveling, Blake felt it, and suddenly all of the loose ends were starting to make sense: the late nights out of the room, the song full of sadness he had never seen before…

Blake lowered himself back down onto the bench. His gaze was hard, unflinching, and it compelled Chris to meet it and not look away. Looking deep into Blake’s rich brown eyes pained him, and a heavy lump formed in his throat. This was it, he thought, and he struggled not to cry. He was found out, it’ll be the end of the friendship, now he’ll never be able to sleep in that room again...

“Tell me the truth.” Blake’s voice was low and even, but not menacing. Chris silently pleaded with him not to ask the question. His voice was barely above a whisper, even though there was no one else around to ever hear it. “Why’d it have to be _who?”_

Chris was lacking the ability to form words when his heart was quickly breaking. A single tear escaped past his eyes, and as he felt the hot liquid run down his cheek he grew furious at himself for letting Blake see this weakness.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out. They didn’t need to, Chris soon realized, as Blake pushed forward and pressed his lips against his.

It was a clumsy kiss, one that Chris had never wanted to happen in the wee hours of the morning with his emotions so raw and vulnerable. He never thought of it happening at all, for whenever he found himself falling into a daydream about Blake he shook himself out of it, sometimes violently, arguing with himself that it would never happen. That his roommate would never be interested in another man.

But the warm, nimble tongue intruding past his open lips and pressing against his teeth told him otherwise.

Chris let escape an involuntary moan as Blake deepened their kiss, the sudden aggression startling but not unwanted. Blake’s strong hands gripped at Chris’s arms. His kisses were so fervent, so demanding, and Chris was more than happy to oblige Blake in anything he wanted to do with him. He never thought he would be in this position with him, never dreamed…

He felt Blake’s weight shift, the grip around his arms tighten. He was being pulled to his feet, pressed up against the spine of the keyboard. The shorter man was certainly taking total control of the situation, and wasting no time in doing so. He released his hold on Chris’s arms, and Chris raised his hands to touch Blake’s face, his neck, to lose his fingers in the feel of his hair.

Meanwhile, Blake’s hands went farther south than Chris’s strong arms, and rested upon his hips, teasing at the skin just above Chris’s pajamas. He could almost feel the smirk on Blake’s lips through their kisses as Blake hooked his fingers underneath the elastic and pulled the pants down to his knees, leaving Chris completely exposed in the moonlight.

The cool air hit his nether regions fast, and Chris inhaled sharply, the full gravity of how fast the situation was heading finally reaching him. “Blake…” he whispered as he momentarily broke their kiss, his voice in the one name pleading for an explanation. But the inflection was lost as the words hit the air, and played on Blake’s ears like a very different kind of pleading.

“It seems like you want this,” he whispered, taking hold of Chris’s hard cock roughly. The sensation immediately got to Chris, and his hips bucked involuntarily, a slow, wheezing gasp escaping from his lips.

Blake’s fingers were surely magical, he thought, as Blake wasted no time in stroking Chris to a fevered state, the younger man’s sighs and soft cries of passion more music to his ears than anything captured by electric keyboard. He sped up the strokes, being careful to stay in rhythm with Chris’s thrusting hips.

Chris closed his eyes and rolled his head back, placing his arms behind him to catch for balance. His palms smashed against the keyboard, creating disharmonic, bleating sounds, a sour note to what Blake felt to be a symphonic, musical night.

He opened his mouth, about to make a sarcastic comment about the keyboard, when the sound of his own hushed voice and even that of the dying chords were drowned out by the guttural moan of Chris’s climax. He jerked in Blake’s hand as he came, his eyes closed tight in that harrowing mix of pleasure and pain, that Blake knew about all too well. He held onto him throughout, entranced by the expressions quickly passing on Chris’s face, from anticipation to pure pleasure to an innocent, almost angelic afterglow.

Blake waited until Chris’s breathing returned to normal; his eyes still closed, his head rolled back, Blake couldn’t resist leaning over and placing a soft kiss on the hollow of his throat. “You better not have gotten any on the keyboard,” he whispered, making Chris laugh, a happy, exhausted laugh, and he replied with a passionate kiss.

“Do you want to go back to bed now?” said Blake. Taking Chris’s hand with his own, he began to lead him out of the common room, back to the warm familiarity of their bedroom.

Chris chuckled huskily at Blake’s enthusiasm to return to bed and, undoubtedly, get a little something more in return from Chris than the first draft of a song. “Only if you wear those shorts and that top when we do,” he called after him, the thought passing through his mind that rehearsing on that keyboard would never be the same again.


End file.
